


the grounding of a foot uncompromising

by skatzaa



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Meetings, Planet Tatooine (Star Wars), Post-Revolution, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: In the aftermath of the revolution, a Jedi is sent to assist the Free People of Tatooine.
Relationships: Shmi Skywalker/Shaak Ti
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	the grounding of a foot uncompromising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jen425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen425/gifts).



> This was such a fun one to play around with. Jen425, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Title from Hozier's Nina Cried Power.

Shaak doesn’t flinch at the blast of hot, dry air that buffets her the moment the ramp begins to lower. This is not her first time on a desert planet—it is not even her first time on Tatooine—and she is better suited to handle the sand and the heat than most.

She pulls up her hood to protect the delicate skin on her montrals and lekku from the worst of the suns, folds her hands into her sleeves, and descends the ramp alone. She is to be joined by Plo soon, but he was on Coruscant when the request came in from the Senate, while she was only one sector over; it will be several days before he arrives. Shaak can handle herself in the meantime.

There is a small delegation waiting for her as she emerges into the full force of the Tatooine noon. Three—no, four—grown adults, two humans, one weequay, and a twi’lek, all dressed in the roughspun cloth characteristic of the planet, accompanied by two jawas and, to Shaak’s amazement, a being that is unmistakably tusken, their gaderffii slung across their back. The briefing packet said the revolution had united _all_ those oppressed by the Hutts and slave owners, but she hadn’t quite allowed herself to believe it until now.

One figure steps forward as Shaak draws to a halt, a middle-aged human woman with her hair drawn back in a braided bun. Most humans are short, compared to togruta, but she is shorter even than the other humans in her group, barely reaching Shaak’s shoulder. There’s an old model pulse sharpshooter slung across her shoulders. Her clothes are equally as rough as all the others, but in the Force, Shaak can feel the way their respect for this woman swells—even the tusken and the jawas. 

Shaak brings her hands together and bows low—the standard bow for diplomatic meetings, because she isn’t sure if Tatooine has their own customs regarding introductions, and she isn’t foolish enough to use one that is popular in Hutt space. As she straightens, she says, “Greetings, I am Jedi Master Shaak Ti. I have been sent on behalf of the Senate to assist you in your negotiations with the holdout settlements on the planet.”

None of them speak, though she can feel the sharp shift in the Force; most are not in favor of her presence here, that much is obvious, but the woman in the lead seems more neutral. She doesn’t bow, but she presses her hands together—palm to palm, the fingers of her left hand pointing to the sky while those of her right hand point to the sands—and gives a shallow nod. Nowhere near a bow, but—well, Shaak can understand that desire.

“The Free People of Tatooine welcome you to Mos Espa,” the woman tells her. She meets Shaak’s eyes without exposing her throat, chin firmly set. “I am Shmi. Let us return to the city in order to discuss your purpose here.”

A few more ruffled feathers in the Force, but they smooth out almost as quickly. They don’t like Shaak being here, but they respect Shmi more. 

Shaak had been directed by the air traffic controller to land outside the limits of Mos Espa, and it took little effort to understand why; her descent had taken her over a portion of the city, and Shaak had seen the devastation left over from the fighting. Some of the hardest hit areas were the spaceports. Tatooine declared itself free of Hutt control some time ago. She can understand prioritizing other concerns above the spaceport, though they will soon need it if they hope to resume trade with the outside galaxy.

It takes several minutes to reach the outskirts of the city, with Shaak practicing her somewhat rusty ability to walk along the sand without sinking. The last time she was here, her montrals had been in the middle of a terribly painful growth spurt; at least now she does not have to contend with that added distraction as she listens for shifting sands. She can feel the eyes of at least one person on her back while ahead, Shmi is talking with the tusken in low tones. Her words are a strange mix of tusken’a and another language that Shaak doesn’t recognize immediately. Rather than attempting to eavesdrop, which she knows won't be taken well by her escort, she simply keeps her hands folded in her sleeves and her eyes on the growing sprawl of Mos Espa.

The other human, the twi’lek, and the weequay split off from the group once they step through the city walls, taking only a moment to speak with Shmi in that same, incomprehensible language. Shaak waits patiently, eyes roaming across the brown pourstone surrounding them on either side until they leave. This isn’t the main entrance to the city—not with how small the buildings are, how tightly they’re packed together, stacked haphazardly in a way that spoke to organic growth rather than planning. 

It’s been many long years since her last visit to Tatooine, but she assumes this was once the slave quarter of the city. 

Shmi and the tusken continue to lead her deeper into the city, past crumbling buildings and crews of workers clearing the rubble away. The jawas continue to follow behind, and Shaak can tell from the shape of their thoughts that at least one has a blaster clenched tightly in their hand, hidden in their robes. 

At one point they turn right onto a street so narrow it’s little more than an alleyway, and Shaak loses her sense of direction entirely. She reaches out and focuses on the minds around her, their exhaustion and cautious hope, to regain her bearings. 

Several more twists and turns later, they emerge into a square surrounded by mostly intact structures. There’s more purpose to the people here, their minds bent to whatever they’re working on. Any hidden thoughts she can sense have nothing to do with herself specifically or the Jedi in general. Reassured, Shaak withdraws somewhat, content that this likely isn’t an ambush. 

Shmi stops before the doors of the largest building; though it’s missing most of its top floor and a good portion of the eastern wall, it looks to be in sound enough condition. Shmi turns back to meet Shaak’s eyes and says, “We can show you to your sleeping arrangements, if you need time to recover from your journey. Or we can begin discussing the issues now.”

Shaak bows again and smiles gently as she straightens. “I am well. We may begin now, if it is convenient.”

Shmi gives her a slight smile in return. She turns toward the door and Shaak takes a half step to follow her, hands reaching up to push her hood back.

The Force flares in warning. Shaak whirls, summoning her lightsaber to her hand. She deflects the blaster bolt into the ground and sand crackles. Sends the next one toward a storefront with no bystanders near it. Sinks low, waiting for another to come, but there’s nothing.

A flare of _amazement-anger-focus_ has her chancing a look over her shoulder, intending to say _are you unharmed,_ but the words die in her throat as she sees Shmi balancing her rifle on the shoulder of the tusken, hands steady as she sights through the scope. There’s stillness for one heartbeat, then two, and then Shmi pulls the trigger.

Shaak feels nothing from the Force, no flare of pain or death, but Shmi straightens, and there’s a grim sort of satisfaction to her as she swings the rifle down and back across her shoulders. She claps the tusken on the shoulder, glances at Shaak, and says, “Assassin droid. Target neutralized.” Then she motions to the jawas and says something in trade speak, and they dash off in the direction of the shots. 

Shaak holds herself still for another moment before disarming her ‘saber and clipping it once more to her belt, trying to let her amazement still into admiration. She follows Shmi into the shade of the doorway and through. She has to duck, somewhat, to pass through without hitting her montrals and earning herself a vertigo headache.

Only after the three of them are safely within the building, the door closed, does Shmi say, “My apologies and thanks, Master Jedi. Not everyone on Tatooine agrees with what the Free People are hoping to accomplish.”

That was included in the mission briefing also, but Shaak had hoped to go more than five minutes planetside without an assassination attempt being made. 

Before Shaak can respond, Shmi continues, “This is A’Yark; she speaks for the clans of the Western Dune Sea.” A pause. “Any negotiations will include the clans. They have been a great ally to us.”

Shaak bows to A’Yark, and swallows her surprise, though she truly should know better at this point. Women don’t lead the tusken clans as a rule, just as tuskens don’t assist—let alone ally themselves with—non-tuskens. Shaak supposes there is much that would change on Tatooine now.

“What is it that you need of me?” Shaak asks as they move further into the building. It’s not much cooler inside than it was out, but at least the worst of the suns are blocked, and someone has the ventilation running in the hopes of keeping the air from growing stagnant. 

“The Free People did not request Jedi assistance,” Shmi says, and there’s a frown in her voice. A’Yark says something in tusken’a, and Shmi adds, “Many fear that you are here in an attempt to exert the Senate’s control over us, now that the Hutts have abandoned their claims to the planet.”

“From my understanding, the Jedi have been tasked with ensuring the next government is established without incident,” Shaak says, and tastes the acrid flare of distrust from both Shmi and A’Yark. Mildly, she continues, “But you are not under the Republic’s purview; if you wish me to leave, I will.”

She hears Shmi take a deep, steady breath, and can almost _see_ her anger and distrust subside. Not unlike meditation. Perhaps she is more Force sensitive than average, if only just. 

“No,” Shmi tells her, turning right into an alcove that houses a narrow and steep staircase. “As you have seen, we need assistance, particularly in rebuilding the settlements and establishing connections outside the sector. But we will not give in to unjust demands, be they from Hutts or Coruscant.”

They exit the stairwell and veer left. Shaak turns over Shmi’s words in her mind, trying to find a response that will not offend or make a liar of herself. It is depressingly difficult, but she acknowledges her frustration and releases it to the Force.

Before the silence stretches out too long, a young human approaches and says, “Lady Skywalker? There—”

Shaak loses the thread of the conversation for a single heartbeat. _Skywalker?_

She knows there’s a high likelihood that there’s no relation; Obi-Wan had explained to her once, upon learning it from his padawan, that Skywalker was one of the most common names for Tatooine slaves, often chosen or gifted by the community when someone was separated from their family at a young enough age that they couldn’t remember their family name. He hadn’t entirely meant to tell her, she was fairly sure, but it had been one of the many things that had slipped from him in his early days as a master as he struggled to adjust to having a padawan and sought advice from other masters. 

The young human moves on, and Shaak says, “Forgive me if this is an impolite question. But… Skywalker. Are you related, by chance, to an Anakin?”

Shmi’s shoulders stiffen perceptibly, and her mind goes entirely still, like a lake freezing over. Instead of answering immediately, she turns and speaks to A’Yark, who nods, taps their foreheads together, and goes back the way they came. Shmi motions for Shaak to follow her into a small room that is currently serving as an office, though it looks to have once been a supply closet. She closes the door, and only then meets Shaak’s eyes.

“Anakin is my son,” Shmi says. She still looks as unwavering as she had when Shaak first laid eyes on her, but there is something… vulnerable there too, now. Vulnerable and hopeful, despite herself. Human eyes have always been so expressive. 

Her briefing had said nothing of who led the rebellion against the Hutts and slavers. But Shaak would not not be surprised in the slightest if she learnt that this woman before her had been a driving force.

“So,” Shmi takes a breath, “he stayed with the Jedi?”

“Yes,” Shaak says, and smiles, careful not to expose too many teeth. That tends to upset other species, even humans with their own sharp smiles. “He’s a bit headstrong, but he is his teacher’s pride. And he’s taller than Obi-Wan now, to Anakin’s delight and Obi-Wan’s dismay.”

Shmi closes her eyes and sighs, relief and grief cresting like a tidal force within her. She presses her lips together, and Shaak looks away, to allow her what privacy she can. It is a long moment before her montrals catch the echoes of movement again.

Shaak looks back to find Shmi standing directly before her, hands held out, palms up. Shaak removes her own hands from her sleeves and offers them, allowing Shmi to take them, palm to palm. Shmi looks at their clasped hands for several heartbeats, then brings them up to press against her forehead. She bows, a tiny movement that Shaak only recognizes what it is because of the tightly controlled intent behind it. 

“May the moons bless you for bringing peace to my door,” Shmi says. The relief is still rippling through her, with other emotions surfacing briefly: grief, yes, old and faded with time, but joy and love and pride as well. It’s soothing in its own way.

Shaak may not fully know the meaning behind this gesture, but she does know the honor she has been given. 

Shmi straightens and loosens her grip, but before she can pull back entirely, Shaak slides her hands under, reversing their position, and echos the motion, bending low to press Shmi’s knuckles to her own forehead. She holds them there for a long, long moment, then says, “May you walk with the Force through all your trials.”

A traditional blessing for padawans and new knights, but it rings clear in the Force. Fitting, if unorthodox. 

When she stands back to her full height, Shmi is staring at her, eyes wide. Shaak releases her hands and steps back to a respectable distance. She folds her hands into the sleeves of her robes and waits. After several seconds, Shmi says, “You do me a great honor, Master Jedi.”

Shaak shakes her head, lekku shifting uncomfortably against the fabric of her robes. _“I_ am honored, Lady Skywalker. And relieved that upon my return to Coruscant, I can reassure your son of your continued safety. I understand he was worried a great deal when news came of the revolt.”

Shmi’s eyes close again, pain stark and bleak in her expression.

“I told him not to look back,” she says, almost a whisper.

Shaak doesn’t know if she was meant to hear, or respond. But compassion wells up within her, and respect. 

“Truly, he excels in his studies,” Shaak offers. “He faces some challenges, but no more than any other his age.” She hesitates, then adds, “I know there is much to discuss regarding the Free People, and I do not wish to distract from that. But perhaps, if there is a spare moment during my time here, I could share with you what I know of his progress? I’ve known his teacher and his teacher’s teacher from the time they were very young. It would be my pleasure to tell you about them all.”

Shmi presses her lips together, but she cannot hide her growing smile, nor the accompanying flare of warmth in the Force. Not just happiness, but something fonder as well, similar to the fondness kindling in Shaak’s own heart.

She says, “I would like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


End file.
